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I tossed blue streamers high into the leafless branches. Taping ribbons around the base of the tree, I tried not to notice the bark flaking off in my hands. This was going to be a good day, no matter what. When I climbed to the first platform — my spot — to wrap more streamers, I ignored the light crackles and falling twigs.
A blanket of brown covered the field as far as I could see, which wasn’t much in the gray spring morning. It looks like the dead of winter.
“Shut up!”
I held tight to my tree base with one hand and with the other I tossed streamers into the maze of twisting limbs, up and over Howie’s spot. The blue tissue paper bounced over the highest branches and rolled down the other side, snagging and zigzagging as it fell. Soon the tree took on a whimsical facade as the leaves it had shed were replaced with light blue webbing. I wondered it if would look like cotton candy when he walked up.
Pleased with my decorating skills, I leaned back — as far as I dared — to look for bald spots. I found one at the very top of the tree, the last place I wanted to go. I tightened my bear hug around the tree and tossed the last streamer directly at the offending open gray sky. It hit a branch halfway up, snapped it, and stopped. Both the branch and the streamer hung in mid-air, dangling together.
With a deep inhale, I looked up at the branch and debated whether it was worth it. Come on you big baby. It’s Howie’s birthday. I swallowed the lump of ‘know better’ in my throat and stood up. My legs wobbled. I looked up toward my target and mapped my path up the tree. Each step felt like it would be my last. The ground whirled around my peripheral vision, my head swimming as I inched higher.
I passed Howie’s spot, and emerged into the clearing. Stupid Howie and his stupid birthday.
My arms shook with effort and terror, fingers not wanting to release their branch for the one above. Left foot, right hand, I coached myself until I finally stood perched like a Dodo bird, face to face with the offending blue crepe paper. It swung on its branch in the slight breeze.
I willed myself to let go of my safe limb and reached out. Its tail licked my fingers, teasing but never coming close enough to catch. I stretched farther, gripping the lower branch with my toes.
Again, I willed the wind to blow just a little harder so I could — crack!
Then another. I felt it beneath my feet before my ears registered the danger. Shit! Shit! Shit!
I hugged the tree for dear life.
//Howie! The tree! Hurry!//
//Syn, I told you not to —//
//Help!// I squeezed my eyes tight and waited for Howie to come save me.
Long minutes later, with trembling legs and numb fingers, I heard my name.
“How in Stone’s green earth did you get up there?” Howie asked, out of breath. He studied the gaudy streamers and ribbons littering our sacred fort. “I should leave you.”
“Please Howie, the branches.” My voice shook worse than my legs.
“Alright, hang on.” Howie scaled the tree with ease, reaching me within seconds. “Grab ahold.”
I shook my head with a resounding //uh-uh.//
Another crack under the weight of both our bodies sent my arms flying around his neck.
He gagged. “I gotta breathe, Syn.”
I loosened my grip, barely.
“This what you were after?” Howie extended a long arm and plucked the streamer out of the air. The branch tumbled to the ground far below.
On the way down, I clung to his chest with everything I had, as he teased me. “You know, I’m sure it says something about your personality that you decorated my birthday with party with your favorite color.” I felt the smile in his voice, though I didn’t dare remove my face from the nape of his scruffy neck.
Muffled, I responded, “I decorate, I pick the color. If you want to plaster pink all over my birthday, feel free.”
“It’s not pink and you know it. Light red. There’s a difference.” He puffed his chest and sat me on the ground.
I dug my fingers into the dry dirt, overjoyed at its firmness.
Howie shielded his eyes with one hand, aimed the other at the same bald section of limbs, and flung the streamer from the ground all the way to the top. It sailed gloriously through the clearing and over the highest branch. We both watched in awe as light blue erased the last bit of dim gray sky overhead.
“Where’d you get all this stuff?” Howie asked and plopped down beside me, leaning back on his arms like kickstands.
“After our last supply run, when you went home. I took a little detour.” I beamed, my chest still heaving.
“Well, you know I didn’t want a fuss.”
“Too bad. I did want one. Besides, you can’t turn sixteen without a big party.” I waved my arm, presenting the splendor again.
“Uh, I think that’s just for girls.”
“Keep that in mind.”
“Sorry,” he scrunched one side of his mouth up, “you’re only turning fifteen.”
I gasped, perking up straight.
“What?” Howie hooked around; a dog on point.
“Your present. It’s still up there.”
“A present?” The little boy inside him took over. “I’ll get it.” He flew to his feet and took the branches in twos. Moments later he peeked his head over my platform and shouted, “No way!”
He hurried back down to me, as I stood and wiped the dirt from my pants. I smiled, matching the childish grin that made Howie’s emerald eyes sparkle.
“This is the one I saw in the junkyard last month!” Howie held out the yellow motorcycle helmet, turned it over in his hands, mouth wide open.
“It has full chip sync and GPS built in.”
“Aw, this is gonna look so boss.” He pushed the helmet over his wayward curls and waved a finger over the ear panel. A light brown shield lowered over his eyes and nose, clicking in place. //So boss.// He chipped, the helmet’s connection instant.
//Yeah you’re gonna look so boss on the back of my pink scooter.//
Howie jumped down and tugged the helmet off his head, raising his eyebrow at me. “Chicks are gonna dig this.”
“Last I checked, I’m the only chick you know, even before the Glitch.” I planted a hand on my hip.
“And you’re gonna dig it.” He clicked his teeth and winked at me.
“Ugh, I’m almost scared to give you the rest of it now.” I cocked my head toward the sparsely leaved bushes at rear of the tree.
Howie’s left eyebrow hiked another inch and the right one joined it. I mirrored his expression and chipped, //Go on.//
He bolted, leaving me in his literal dust, which kicked up with every step. I covered my mouth and nose with my shirt and followed.
“No! No! That’s not! You didn’t! How?” Howie broke away the dead branches revealing a black dirt bike with a red stripe alone one side. “The X17! How did you?”
“I found it on the side of the road a couple weeks ago. Had Marc and Bit help pull it over here and hide it. I gotta say, for someone so smart, you’re not very observant.”
He waved a dismissive hand. “Like anyone would ‘observe’ a bike in the bushes.” Howie threw a leg over his new ride and activated the brake. “The code.” He frowned, visibly deflating.
I strolled over to the bike and punched 0301 into the console, his birthday. “Easy to crack.”
He smiled up at me. “I’m gonna put a board right here,” he said, motioning toward the front wheel, “for groceries and stuff. Ooh, and maybe find a carrier for Evelyn. She’d love to go for rides.”
“She’s not even one. Your mom —”
“I know. I know. I’ll make Marcus sit in it then.” We both laughed at the thought of the ten-year-old boy sitting in a baby seat.
“Is Evelyn... better?”
Howie’s face answered. “But she’s a fighter, Mom says.”
“I’m sure she’ll start growing. Be running around the house in no time.” I kicked the sand beneath my feet. “I have to get back to Bit. Told Mom I’d only be gone a little while.”
“Alright. Thank you. Thank you so much. I love it.” Howie gushed, petting his new bike.
“I’m glad.” I turned and walked to my scooter leaning against the other side of the tree.
As I reached it, tapping my own code into the panel, Howie chipped, //The hug was better, though.//
My ears caught fire and I refused to look back at him.